I love you
In a way, you’ll never love me.
All I want is for my bare presence to be admired.
But just my bare presence isn’t enough.
You need more and I’m scared I can’t be that
I let you step on me like an ant on the floor
shmushed on my last breath as you still ask for more.
You're free to be all that you want to be,
As I dream of being freed eventually
I’m tired of crying
I’m tired and bleeding on the floor crawling to you for help even though I know you’ll ignore me.
Yet I'm nothing, nothing but a soulless living being, why am I still here?
My emotions don’t matter as long as I'm what you want
Physical pain can’t hurt more than this
It can’t hurt more than love.
But what hurts the most is that I still love you.
You're all I know, you're all I want, all I need.
To be loved by you is everything I plead.
It doesn’t change the fact that I still dream of the day that my bare presence will be enough.
I don’t want to have to do things for you to love me, I don’t want to annoy you with me talking about my day or rambling on about nonsense.
because even those moments when you talk to me about the randomest things are the moments when I love you the most.
I just want you to want to care about my emotions
I made a promise to love you for who you are, even when you hurt me
I want to be your world as you are mine.
It hurts to be nothing but somehow it hurts something even more.
Why can’t I let you go, I can’t win,
I'm stuck in this endless cycle where I search for your love that I so badly need.
Returning to the day we first met would still be a blessing to me.
In a world of millions of people, you're still my number one
but one day I know I'll be done.
Alone in my grave with no one to come, is this what life is?
a long soul-******* death. I don’t know,
but I know I kept
my promise.
I love you.

Why are you so mean to me? When I read our messages, I think to myself wow no matter how badly you treat me like **** I still try. You want to be nice when it’s convenient, but because of that, you give me false hope. I hope that you’ll change things so that they'll be different. In every argument, I’m the only one trying to make things better. You just push me away and yell at me and treat me like I’m a dog, begging for your attention you yelled at me telling you to leave you alone and maybe some space is healthy but not when you’re treating me like that, yeah I still love you and yet I’m still hurting, sometimes I genuinely wonder what’s going on in your head, you clearly know that I would do anything for you yet. You purposely treat me like ****. You say you would do anything for me too, and I believe you, but I don’t purposely treat you like **** just because I know you’ll stay. I do the opposite if anything, I treat you like a king because I want you to stay, I want you to feel loved by me, yet. You don’t think that way you, think you can just treat me like **** and I’ll just stay but the worst part is. That’s true, I once heard people could only accept love. They think they deserve. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but sometimes I think to myself, Do I deserve to be treated this way? Maybe I do, maybe I am a horrible person, or at least that’s how you make me feel. That’s why to be loved by you is my new drug, maybe deep down we both know we were never truly lovers, just two addicts, addicted to the same poison.

The feeling of my wasted lifetime flies by like the gusts of wind blowing away grains of sand in the early summer.
The feeling of trying to grab onto that warm delight that feels like home is something that slips through my fingers.
To reach an unachievable feeling of pride and bliss is a luxury I fear isn’t possible.
I fear in a world full of oxygen I find myself gasping for air,
In a world where nothing slows down, I find myself stuck in place.
Being drowned by my thoughts and emotions, I stick my hand above the water waiting for someone to pull me out.
I am losing the light I once saw, The light that was my warmth, my home.
I see nothing but the darkness my mother had warned me about in this world, to go back in time when there was still color in my world is something I fear I don’t remember.
All I am is an empty shell they call a human. Nothing inside, nothing but a void that can’t be filled.
The difference between living and being alive is living as a goal, a purpose, I’m simply nothing.
Is the goal of life to live it or die without a trace of you left in the world?
In my void of darkness, I see a flash of light, and so desperate to find it, I find myself running and running towards an end that doesn’t exist for me.
I search for a way out of my dark void, and I see a bright golden man saying he can give me back the color in my gray, lifeless world.
I blindly gave him my hand.
He took every last bit of myself I had left. I truly have nothing now.  
For I am not living nor alive.